


the world looks better (through your eyes)

by Tomlintummy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Blind, Alternate Universe - Medical, Blind Character, Blind!Harry, Blindness, Chaptered, Fluff, Hospitals, M/M, Scared!Harry, Slow Build, Work In Progress, blind!louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:28:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomlintummy/pseuds/Tomlintummy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wishes he had been born deaf instead. Louis doesn't wish for anything. </p><p>AU where Harry is scared, Louis is understanding, and Liam has hearteyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm attempting to write this thing and I hope it all goes well this is the first thing Ive posted here and welp here we go

Harry was born into darkness.

He heard the whispers, every single one dripping with pity for poor blind Harry. He wishes he was born deaf instead.

He hated that they didn’t know the fear that came along with never knowing your surroundings. All these things he didn’t know because he couldn’t see them. It was all so incredibly infuriating. There was so much more out there, so much more to see and know. He didn’t even know what he looked like, nor would he ever. People always tried explaining to him what they saw of him, what they saw around him, but they never seemed to realise how little it helped. They always forgot that Harry has never seen colours and does not know what it means to have green eyes or brown hair. He doesn’t know, and he's sure he never will.

Harry is certain he'll spend the rest of his life shrouded in darkness. There isn't exactly another option for him, is there? Yet, he still prayed every night that somehow his darkness would fade. He prayed until his hands shook, thoughts of a light filled world in which he could live without hesitation. A world for him to view and experience in ways he'll never be able to without his sight. He prayed that in some way there would be a chance of a cure, something to fix this horrible burden that was forced upon him.

Though no matter how much he wished for one, he never actually expected to get one. Harry was far too realistic to believe in something as ridiculous as miracles. 

 

Louis, though, was the complete opposite.

Louis viewed his lack of sight as a gift, an opportunity to ignore the consequences of his actions. If he couldn't see them then he wouldn't have to face them, making his life much easier. He let the darkness guide him, let it take him down unseen paths filled with obstacles best ignored. No matter the repercussions, he would jumped anyway. Louis was never the one to hold back.

His utter disregard of consequence drove his family mad. Though his mother wanted to hover, she knew she didn't have to. Louis knew how to take care of himself. He wandered and bumped until he figured things out on his own, eternally denying any offerings of help. Where others were worried and careful with him, he was rather reckless and a little pain never bothered him.

He never minded the fact he couldn’t see. It was nothing to hold him back, it was a part of him. Just something that he had to live with. To him, it did not matter that he'd never know what he looked like. He'd been told he was an attractive lad, even though he really wouldn't have cared if he wasn't. The outside of someone was never the important part- it isn't like he had to look at it anyway. Being blind didn't have to be a limitation unless he let it, and Louis wasn't the one to limit his potential.  

 

It could never bother him even half as much as his sisters did.


	2. One- Harry

It was a month before his sixteeth birthday and he was woken up by two hands shaking his shoulders. He didn't even open his eyes as he sat up, tugging at the blankets to keep him warm. 

 

"Yeah?" Harrys voice was coated in sleep, one hand holding himself up while the other rubbed at his still closed eyes.

 

"Dr. Carson called." His mum said, her voice filled with an excitement that Harry hadn't heard in her since he was small.

 

"What? Why? Is there something wrong?" He scrambled up, hands patting around him to find where on the bed he was.

 

"There’s a.. a surgery. Its still experimental and its not so sure it’ll work but they’ve tries a few times and its worked and-"

 

"For what…?" Harry cut her off, his entire body freezing. A tiny knot of hope tied itself around his heart to stop it from beating.

 

 

"There are huge risks, like you could be paralyzed, or even killed, but it's a chance for you to see, sweetheart."

 

"I don’t care. I want it. I need it. I can't live like this. Please, please let me get it. I'll do anything. Mum please." Harry was practically begging Anne, his hands reaching towards where her voice was. Her hand gripped his and he sucked in a deep breath. The knot had moved to wrap around his entire body, afraid that his lungs would collapse if she were to say no.

 

"Honey are you sure? It is risky… What if it doesn’t work?" She sounded so uneasy, causing Harry’s stomach to turn uncomfortably.

 

"If you aren’t going to let me do it then why did you bring it up?" He snapped before clenching his teeth together almost painfully. He just wanted to be normal for once. He wanted to be normal and if she was only going to tease him, why would she say it in the first place?

 

"Alright. I'll call him back and we can go in." Harry regretted snapping almost immediately after hearing how tiny her voice got. The little wave at the end told him she was upset, his entire body sighing out in relief as he squeezed her hand comfortingly.

 

"I’m sorry for snapping Mum. Thank you." He let go of her fingers, letting them slip away as he finally took a solid breath of air.

 

He felt the weight lift off his bed, the sound of his bedroom door opening and shutting behind her. He sighed, biting his lip before moving his legs carefully off the bed. His toes grazed the cold floor, goose bumps rising all over his legs. He knew his room well, not daring to move anything around in fear that he’d run into something. Knowing where everything was didn’t stop him from being careful as he walked, though. There was never a reason to not be careful. 

 

With light feet he stepped closer to the dresser he kept all his clothes in. He always let his Mum buy them, he didn’t care what he wore. He only cared about how comfortable he was in them.

 

He opened the middle drawer, hands scrambling to find to find his favourite jumper. His mum assured him it was purple, but he couldn’t care less about colours. He didn’t know what purple was but he knew what comfortable was, and that jumper was it.

 

Harry tugged it over his head, pulling on the edges to make sure it was snug. He reached a hand up, flattening his hair against his head and wishing that they’d stop flying away from where they were supposed to lie. His mums voice carried up the stairs, telling him that first thing tomorrow they were to go see Dr. Carson about his eyes.

 

Maybe for once they wouldn’t be as useless.

 

The rest of his day went as usual, sitting with his mum in the warmest part of the house with one of his books placed carefully on his lap. The only problem was the fact he wasn't even reading his book. He was thinking, attempting to find a way he could talk go Dr. Carson without ever leaving the sweet comfort of his home.

 

Harry hated the doctors. Hes hated them as long as he could remember. Once Gemma told him that their entire office was full of sharp pointy things to hurt Harry, and hes never really been the same since. He was sure those words were absolutely true. Honestly, they do sound that way.

 

How did he know that what was in front of him wouldn't hurt him? Trust? Harry thought that was a bit ridiculous. Trusting people for the better seemed to be such a silly concept to him, honestly. No matter how much reassurance Anne gave him, Harry was sure people were carrying things to hurt others. He didn't know until he was older that all the were carrying was words. Somehow that was even worse.

 

Instead of sharp and horrible things to hurt Harry, doctors offices were full of pitiful whispers and looks he could feel miles away. He could hear every word meant for him to never hear, no matter where they went. Doctors offices were the worst. 

 

One of his strongest memories was hearing the doctor tell his mum that there was no chance of fixing his situation. He hears it more often than he'd like. It echoes through his head whenever someone says anything about him. Sometimes its all he has. Times like this when all he knows is the fear deeply buried in his stomach, keeping him from having proper breaths and still hands. He was always curious as to how nurses could handle being around doctors all the time.

 

Anne snapped him out of his thoughts by gently tapping his shoulder, the book resting on his legs jerking away as he stood abruptly. As soon as he heard his sisters laughter, he knew he'd made an absolute fool of himself. His cheeks burned as he tried to not trip over himself.

 

"I'm sorry mum. Didn't mean to. I was startled." He was stuttering and trying so very hard to find a justifiable reason for jumping away so quickly.

 

"Oh, it's alright. I wanted to know if you wanted something to eat?" Her voice was soft, her hand not returning back to his shaky shoulder. Sometimes it made him truly angry that he couldn't manage to ever sit still.

 

"That would be lovely, thanks."

 

"I was thinking of going to the store later, if you'd like to come?" Anne asked him even though they all knew the answer. Panic rose in Harry's through at the thought of the whispers in the grocery store, the people pitying him with ever step he took.

 

"No, no its okay. I'd get in your way. I'll stay here, if that's alright." He barely choked the words out sounding like proper English, knowing that if he left he would end up a whimpering mess in his mums car for what felt like the millionth time. He wasn't good with leaving the house. 

 

"Okay sweetheart. Figured I'd ask, being polite and all." He could tell she was trying to lighten the extra weight Harry had rested on her shoulders. He could tell she was exhausted. He knew it was because of him.

 

His cheeks burned with shame at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So its going to switch Harry to Louis to Harry to Louis until they meet so you know and theyll be short and in little jumps of time because im awful at seperations in time without a new chapter being involved I apologise for that


	3. One- Louis

Louis woke bright and early, his alarm clock blaring off at seven am. His sisters groans could easily be heard in the room next door, a giant smile taking over his face. He stretched his legs out and made sure to take his time, knowing that Carlotte was about ready to burst through the wall and make him eat his own alarm. He found it a bit funny, honestly. 

 

"Morning Lottie!" He yelled, slamming the alarm off and stretching.

 

"Go back to sleep!" She yelled back, banging on the wall they shared. He chuckled, getting up and almost tripping over a few shirts he left scattered on the ground.

 

"Maybe I should clean." He told himself sarcastically. He shook his hair out of his face, reaching down and sniffing a shirt until he found one that smelled decent.

 

"Morning Lou." His mum grumbled when he walked down the stairs. He smiled again, waving in that area.

 

"Have you woken up or have you not slept?" He asked, walking into the kitchen and patting the counter tops for the kettle.

 

"Just got home. Long shift. Do you want to know what I heard at work today?"

 

"Mum, I do not need lady gossip." Louis laughed, finally finding it and filling it until it weighed the same as what his mug would need.

 

"Its not gossip! Okay, maybe a little. But its about this new surgery." She tempted him to ask, but he hadn't yet had his cuppa so he didn't yet care.

 

He picked up his mug and spun around, holding it out at arms length.

 

"Do you see this. This is empty. This means I cannot care. I cant see it so please tell me that none of the girls put something in it to kill me." He joked, knowing his mum was probably going to come over and whack him.

 

"You're a piece of work. I'm going to sleep. Night sweetheart." Her lips touched the side of his head. He smiled.

 

"Night Mum. See you this afternoon."

 

"Don't kill your sisters." She yawned, waving a hand towards him. The only reason he knew she did it was because her fingers grazed his arm. He smiled.

 

"As long as they don't kill me."

 

"Oh pish posh. Be good."

 

"Always am."

 

"Lying is bad Louis." Daisy told him, latching onto one of his legs.

 

"Which one are you?" He teased, patting the top of her head.

 

"Pheobe! Louis you're silly!" She giggled, trying to hide her face in his pajama pants. "You know me!"

 

"Of course I do, Daisy!" Lou teased with a bright smile.

 

"No Louis! I'm Pheobe!" She squealed. Louis chuckled, one hand on top of her head and the other waving above the counter to find his tea.

 

"You don't sound like Pheobe. You sound like Daisy." He stated, his hand meeting with his hot mug. He smirked to himself, tugging his sleeve down to cover his hand as he lifted the mug.

 

"How can you tell them apart? Can't even see them." Louis had learned to not jump at voices anymore, even the cold one of his sister.

 

"Well, Lottie. Pheobe is a little higher in pitch than Daisy here. And Daisy is always awake and in need of her apple juice first." He heard Lottie huff, the fridge door opening.

 

"You're ridiculous, Louis." Lottie huffed again, the door slamming shut as another little body attacked his other leg.

 

"Ah, but at least I'm not stingy." He only chuckled when she stormed off.

 

"When is Mummy going to wake up?" Pheobe asked with giggles as Louis walked them both around on his legs.

 

"She's only just gotten home, love." He picked his mug back up and carefully managed his way into the living room with the girls still clinging to him for dear life.

 

"Does this mean we can have sweets for breakfast and watch cartoons?"

 

"That is _exactly_ what it means."

 

* * *

 

"So about that gossip." Jay said to Louis much later in the day, the tea he had made her being lifted away.

 

"Do I really need to know?" Louis was absolutely  _not_ whining. Not even a little. 

 

"Absolutely!" She whacked hhim on the arm and he couldn't help the silly grin he had. 

 

"Fine. Go on." Louis chuckled, making his way to the dining room table and sitting in his chair. When he was eight, he'd taken a knife and cut out a large chunk of the chair to ensure that no one would try and be sneaky and take it from him. He'd almost chopped off his finger, but he still thought it was pretty bloody worth it. 

 

"So. Some of the girls and I were chatting about you."

 

"I'm not dating anyone's daughter." Lou interrupted flatly. He jumped away from the inevitable swat he was about to get, a loud laugh bubbling between them. "Don't even like girls."

 

"I know that. Don't interrupt, it's rude. Anyway, we were chatting about you and your eyes and stuff. Susanne heard from Theresa that there's this surgery and-"

 

"Let me guess, it can make my eyes glow in the dark? Like a superhero or something?" Louis teased, hearing his mum mumble a voice words that would still get him into trouble. "M'kidding Mum."

 

"Don't interrupt! But it can fix your sight boo. It's a surgery that could make you see! Isn't that bloody fantastic?" His heart sank for his mum. She was so lovely, and she was always trying to find ways to help him out and make him feel like he could actually see, but she never understood that he was okay. He didn't mind it. It was a bit comforting, really. Not seeing wasn't as large of a problem as she assumed and she could never wrap her head around it. 

 

"Mum..." He took a deep breath, knowing that whatever he said was just going to take out that sparkle of hope in his mums voice.

 

"Don't Lou. It would be incredible, don't you think? Maybe we should go in and talk to-"

 

"Mum. You know how I feel about this." 

 

"Please Louis? For me?" Despite the numerous times that there had been a conversation like this between the two of them, Jay had always had that same flicker in her voice that made Louis so unbearably sad for her. He wanted to make his mum happy, he really did, but he just didn't want to do it like this. 

 

"Tell me the risks. All you know, tell me." He said firmly, his fingers tightening around the warm mug.

 

"Well, it's a surgery. There's normal surgery risks." Her voice went up. She's lying. Louis knew her lying voice, he'd heard it at every mention of Santa for the past eighteen years.

 

"You're lying to me. I could die, right? That's the main risk? I'd be totally six feet under and all?"

 

"But you could see, Louis. Wouldn't that be lovely? You could see." Louis let go of the mug, reaching forward aimlessly to find her shaking hand.

 

"But that won't do any good if I'm dead, would it? I'm quite happy with where I am. I would much rather live like this anyway. If I had my sight back my ears wouldn't be able to tell Phoebe and Daisy apart. That's always special." He squeezed her hand.

 

"Why don't you want to see?" Her voice was soft, a little hurt but mostly curious. He assumed her eyes were fixed on his face and she may even be frowning. He hoped she wasn't frowning. He doesn't like that. "It could fix you." 

 

"Not being able to see really isn't that bad. I don't know much different so it's actually quite peaceful. I don't have to look at Stan's face all the time, which is a pretty great bonus." Louis joked, hoping it would lighten the mood even the slightest bit. "I also don't have to see the bad things. Poverty and all that."

 

He knew he had blatently ignored the fixing comment. It wasn't worth bringing up and getting irritated about. He just hoped Jay would drop it as well. 

 

"But you hear it. Isn't hearing it just as bad?"

 

"Dunno. I always assume that seeing something is totally different than hearing it. Like that surgery. You heard it, but has it actually been seen working on a person? It's totally different."

 

"No." His mum sounded so utterly defeated when she slipped her hand away from Louis'.

 

"Thought so. Now, I've had quite enough of this conversation. I'm blind, I'm okay with it, I'm pretty bloody happy in general, and that's that. How about instead you tell me all about your day?" Louis gave her his biggest smile, the one he knew made his eyes squint and crinkle. He could tell that was everyone's favourite, especially hers.

 

As his mum spoke, Louis' mind wandered. It wandered to the place in his mind that he rarely went to, the part of him that had the pure need to know what it was to see. He knew no different than blindness, but he wanted to know what it was to see. He didn't want to see, exactly, but he wanted to know how it feels to be a person with sight.

 

He wondered If their touches meant as much as Louis' do, if words spoken are as meaningful as words thought. Louis tried to never forget a voice, each one meaning something to him. He could tell the type of person just by voice, rude ones always having a shortness to their sentences and tempers. The sweeter ones, like his mum, always had soft notes and pure love radiating out of every word.

 

He loved being able to do that. Louis didn't think that anyone who could see could tell them apart as well as Louis could. He also loved being able to judge a persons beauty by their words, and not only that, but the way the actually were feeling. No one could ever convince him that his mum wasn't a slightly damaged, yet incredibly beautiful, woman. He knew it with every ounce in his soul that his mum was gorgeous, and it was mostly because of how gorgeous her soul and heart are. He knew it because he  _heard it._ He didn't have to see that to believe it. 

 

He knew people that way. He could pick apart someone who was incredibly sad inside from someone faking it in a heartbeat. He could tell lies from truth, hell, he could even tell when someone was lying to themselves. Louis wouldn't give that up for sight. He believed that if he could see, he would be taken by appearances rather than voices and words. They meant far too much to him to give up on. 

 

Even to see, he wouldn't dare let go of that. 


End file.
